More Than It Should
by koswarg
Summary: [SeamusHermione] It wasn't as though his opinion should matter to her, anyway.


A/N: Gift for someone. Sorry for anyone who read the original version without the page-break; it must have been terribly confusing.

* * *

Hermione forced herself to focus on the parchment in front of her, trying very hard to concentrate on her notes rather than the conversation that was taking place right behind her. 

"You're daft, Finnigan, I'm telling you," Theodore Nott was saying in a rather condescending tone. "Ballycastle? They haven't got a _chance_ this year."

Seamus's face had been reddening for several minutes, but now it looked as though he would pop at any moment. Which had been Nott's objective all along, really. It wasn't his fault that Seamus was too thick to realize it.

"And I'm telling _you_," Seamus began, speaking quite deliberately, and sounding as if he wanted nothing more than to throttle Terry on the spot; Hermione imagined that his face was probably twitching with annoyance. "They're much better this year. A new keeper, two new chasers, and a new seeker? You can't judge them on how they did last year!"

Hermione felt what little patience she had left withering away under her annoyance and inability to concentrate. They just went _on and on_--how was it possible to argue for so long over something so trivial? And how was it that Professor McGonagall didn't notice?

When the tip of her quill snapped because she was pressing down hard enough to rip the parchment, so did her patience.

"Would you two _be quiet_?" she said forcefully, perhaps a bit more loudly than she'd meant to; or more like a great deal more loudly than she'd meant to.

"Miss Granger?" came McGonagall's stern voice. Hermione knew that Professor McGonagall was in no mood today; she'd already taken fifty points from Lavender Brown for passing a note.

_Oh no. No, no, no..._

"I'm surprised, I must say. A detention for your outburst, I think."

When Seamus snickered, she added, "You too, Mister Finnigan," and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little self-satisfied at the look of shock on his face.

---

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Seamus said, as he tugged another one of the little creatures out of the ground, "this isn't so bad." In fact, if he ever had a choice about who to serve detention with, he would've chosen Professor Sprout every time. Her method involved giving a task and then leaving; she didn't hover over you every moment, unlike _some_ professors.

"Speak for yourself," Hermione responded, wincing as one of them took a bite out of her finger. Again. They weren't very big--only about the size of a finger, actually, though a little longer--but their teeth could apparently penetrate even the thick, dragon-skin gloves she was wearing.

Seamus cast a sideways glance at her, noting the way that she was nursing her middle finger. "Maybe if you didn't _yank_ them so harshly..."

Hermione only glared in response, looking as though she'd like nothing more than to 'yank' _him_ rather 'harshly,' so Seamus promptly shut his mouth and turned away from her, shrugging.

"Be careful!" she barked, as he tossed one into the basket from a good fifteen metres. _Now_ she was telling him to be careful? After she'd essentially ripped up half of the garden?

"It's not going to hurt 'em," he responded, quite proud of the fact that the little bugger had actually made it into the basket. Not that she'd seemed to notice his amazing feat _at all_. He huffed, somewhat affronted, and went back to work, pausing every now and then to childishly imitate her.

Unfortunately, Hermione caught him in the act before he could change his expression, and now she was shooting him violent looks every few minutes, obviously trying to scare him. As if he was intimidated by her. But he scooted a little farther away from her, just to be safe. (You just never knew with girls.)

"Why d'you have to be such a grouch?" he muttered, not looking up from his work, and certainly not expecting her to respond.

"I _am not_ a grouch."

"Fine," he responded, noting with some relief that they only had one more row left. "Why are you so high-strung, then?" Hermione simply humphed, though Seamus thought he saw her cheeks redden a little out of the corner of his eye.

And apparently he was feeling quite masochistic today, because then he said, "Maybe you just need to be thoroughly snogged or something." He still didn't look up, not thinking that he'd said anything that she would find particularly offensive.

Of course, now Hermione was kneeling just next to him, having worked her way down from the other end of the row. "For your information, I--" she began quite angrily, but stopped herself (for some reason he couldn't figure out).

"Not that it's any of _your_ business," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the last one at the very same time that he did. Their hands brushed briefly and Hermione jerked her hand back, as if the brief contact had burned her.

Seamus cocked an eyebrow, studying her for a moment before shrugging and tossing the last of the little creatures into the basket and sealing it with his wand. It was probably just some weird girl thing that he would never figure out. And he wasn't about to waste his time trying to.

"Let's go in, it's getting dark," he suggested. Hermione nodded, following behind him in an oddly quiet manner. They walked up to the castle in silence, for the most part. When they reached the Entrance Hall, however, Hermione spoke up.

"Do...does everyone...I mean, is that how everyone thinks of me?"

Seamus, surprised by the sudden attempt at conversation, stopped walking abruptly, nearly causing Hermione to go crashing into his back. He turned to face her.

"How?" he asked, not quite sure what she meant.

"You know...'high-strung'?"

Oh. _That._ Why was she asking _him_ this? Him, of all people? Shouldn't she be asking Harry or Ron or Ron's sister or...well, _someone other than him_? His opinion didn't strike Seamus as something that should particularly matter to her, anyway.

"Well...aren't you?"

"No! Well...perhaps a bit. But it's only because I'm concerned about my future, which is more than I can say for _some people_," she said, almost indignantly, and Seamus found himself still wondering why it mattered so much to her. He sighed.

"I don't see that it matters."

There was a moment of silence, during which he supposed that she was thinking his words over.

"I...suppose it doesn't," she responded, in a hesitant, quite un-Hermione-like tone.

"I'm sure there are plenty of girls who look up to you and plenty of blokes who find you quite snoggable," he added, quite certain that he would be receiving a smack (or perhaps just an icy glare) for that one.

He was quite surprised when she didn't hit or glare at him, but rather smiled appreciatively (a small one, but a smile nonetheless). She resumed walking down the corridor, leaving Seamus staring somewhat bewilderedly after her for a few moments before following suit.

_Girls._


End file.
